


His red demon lacquered mask

by nymnes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 19th Century, A lot of other things to be tagged apparently, Angst, Even if other characters and pairings appear later it's mainly iwaoi, Eventual Smut, I swear, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating will go up, and with real plot and all, daimyō!Oikawa, it's going to be real good, samurai!AU, samurai!Iwaizumi, this is suposed to be a long story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 20:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymnes/pseuds/nymnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the mid-nineteenth century, two hundred years after locking the outside world out, Japan is forced to reopen its borders. Stagnant in rooted feudalism, the views of the daimyō, the great Lords of Japan, on foreigners and their strange habits are varied, prevailing dissent and, even, hatred.</p><p>However, in 1863, in an atmosphere of growing tension, a young great Lord, Oikawa Tooru, is excited about the arrival of new ships on the horizon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His red demon lacquered mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah! Had this saved for months, and didn't dare to upload it. I have this entire story planned in my head, and it's gonna be long, if I ever finish writing it. If you guys like the idea, I will, I promise.
> 
> Thanks a lot to my lovely beta, natalia_lj <3
> 
> Enjoy!

Iwaizumi awoke just before dawn, as usual, in the hour of the Rabbit. Eyes closed, he sharpened his hearing, relishing the silence around him. The stillness of the morning calmed him, and it was the only moment of the day that he allowed himself to reflect. While in peacetime, his work was not hard at all, but he knew that strange times layed ahead, and changes never brought with them no good. He got up slowly, walked to the basin that was in a corner of his modest room, and cleaned up thoroughly. He dressed himself in his usual hakama, completely black, and waited by the window.

“Iwaizumi-sama”, whispered a voice on the other side of the door.

The man turned, arms folded behind his back.

“Go ahead”, he said.

The slide door opened slowly, revealing a young man kneeling on the other side. The boy bowed and entered the room, still on his knees, closing the door behind him.

“Good morning, Iwaizumi-sama”, he said, nodding profoundly. “I’ve come to report.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at such formality, but he knew it was impossible to try to dissuade the young man.  
  
“Thanks, Kindaichi, go ahead.”

“Yes!”, with his head down, the boy nodded vigorously. “First, during the night, a new foreign vessel arrived, and it is anchored in the bay right now. We do not know its origin, but we'll get to it right away.”

The older nodded. In the past few months, the number of foreign ships had not stopped growing. The vast majority of nobles was against the borders’ opening. However, they had no other choice; the outsiders’ giant war machines had left them no choice but to sign peace treaties. Foreigners slightly annoyed Iwaizumi, but he had no more concerns for them. His master, however, was completely obsessed.

“All right, start the preparations. It is very possible that we have to go outside today. Anything else?”

“Yes, sir”, Kindaichi said. ”Another letter from the shogun’s assistant has arrived.” He pulled out a small scroll from the folds of his kimono, and handed it to his superior. ”Just an hour ago. Just like every week.” He bowed his head again. “That is all, sir.”

Iwaizumi sighed, keeping the piece of paper by his chest.

“Good, you can go back.”

The boy touched the ground with his forehead, and left the room in a hurry.

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi headed to his master’s chambers with a purposeful stride. He was the chief of security, and his job included reporting the daily news, just as Kindaichi did with him, every morning. As he arrived at the room’s door, he took a deep breath before opening the door, unannounced.

The view he was presented with, despite being the same that welcomed him almost every morning, managed to steal his breath. A tall, slender and toned man stood with his back to him, looking out the window, while the weak rays of dawn bathed his naked body, surrounding him like a halo. Iwaizumi, like every morning, tried not to explore every inch of exposed skin. Like every morning, Iwaizumi failed. He came out of his trance when a maid came in haste from the adjacent room, the bathroom, with her head down and eyes fixated on the floor.

“Your bath is ready, my lord”, she whispered.

The Lord made a vague gesture with his hand, urging the girl to leave, and she left the room as fast as she could, closing the door gently, leaving the two men alone. Iwaizumi sighed.

“Oikawa”, he called, reproachfully. “You could cover yourself in the morning, at least for the maids. I'm sure you are aware of the things they say about you.”

Oikawa turned slowly and smiled, making the pale morning light reflect in his eyes, which seemed to shine, rogues. The other lords thought that he smiled too much, and Iwaizumi had to agree with them. He did not like how Oikawa’s smile made him feel.

“Oh, Iwa-chan, but how could I deprive you the views, when I know for sure that is your favorite part of the day?”

Iwaizumi frowned, instinctively putting his hand on the hilt of his sword, to realize, with some frustration and relief, he had left both blades back in his room, just like every morning. He settled with squaring his shoulders and glaring at him, scowling. It didn’t have the expected effect, since the man's smile did nothing but grow larger.

“I told you not to call me that, _my lord_.” He uttered the last words with scorn, and no little amount of resentment. “It’s not appropriate.”

Oikawa's smile did not waver, but the samurai could see the light flooding his eyes moments before disappearing completely. Unable to hold his gaze, Iwaizumi stared at the ground, but did not apologize. He knew he was doing the right thing. He needed to do the right thing. If he did not stick to the rules, then-

“Anyway,” his master’s cheerful voice interrupted his thoughts. “come see this. Hurry, Iwa-chan, come, come.” He accompanied his words with an urging wave of his hand. Childish mischief had returned to his eyes, and he swayed with excitement.

The samurai sighed, approaching Oikawa, picking up a kimono that was discarded on top of the futon displayed in the middle of the room.

“Here,” he said, holding out the piece of clothing. “You are shivering.”

Oikawa pursed his lips.

“Fallacies! Vile lies! The cold does not affect me in the slightest”, he complained. Even so, when Iwaizumi circled his shoulders with the kimono, he huddled in it. Iwaizumi smiled. Both had trained with the monks in the mountains, acquiring severe discipline. However, Oikawa was not as master in the art to control his body temperature as he believed he was. And it was, indeed, a cold morning.

“Look, look!” Oikawa whined, impatient, throwing in his hands a small foreign-made telescope. Iwaizumi had no idea where he had gotten it from. He didn't dare to ask, either. “There, in the bay!”

He directed the lens towards the coast, watching the foreign warships that had been anchored there for a couple of weeks. Indeed, there were seven ships, not six, as the night before.

“The smaller boat, Iwa-chan!” The other's voice was tinged with exasperation. “The one with the big sails. It arrived at night, in the hour of the Tiger. I think it is a merchant ship, from Europe, Iwa-chan! Europe!”

The man was practically vibrating with excitement, and clung to Iwaizumi’s forearm, shaking him gently, making it difficult to focus the telescope on the ship. It was three times smaller than the monstrous machines around him, and it seemed insignificant beside them. Still, it was easily twice the size of any Japanese ship. The absence of canons on the flanks indicated, certainly, that it was not a warship. Oikawa pressed himself against his side, resting his head on his shoulder as he looked out the window dreamily.

“We have to go to meet them, Iwa-chan. I have to go”, he whispered.

Iwaizumi nodded, resting his cheek against the brown locks that tickled his face. The other’s heat seeped into his bones, into his soul, and the palms of his hands began to tingle. He folded his arms behind his back, clenching his fists.

“How long have you been awake?”, he asked. “Did you sleep, at all?”

Oikawa buried his face in the other's shoulder, rubbing with vigour. He did not answer.

“Mizoguchi-san is not going to be excited with the idea. I can hear him screaming already about how it is bad omen when things happen in the hour of the Tiger”, Iwaizumi continued, impasible. “He’s going to _strongly_ refuse.”

The other began to absentmindedly caress his neck with the bridge of his nose. Iwaizumi feared starting to shake. He hoped his strong willpower helped him avoid the turmoil inside him from showing on his face. When Oikawa began to run his fingers through his waist, the samurai spoke:

“All right, I'll talk to him.” He took a step back, away from his master, bowing his head slightly, defeated. “Go bathe yourself, now, the water’s going to be freezing when you get there.”

He could only see his feet, but he knew Oikawa was opening and closing his mouth, struggling whether to speak. Whatever it was the conclusion he reached, Oikawa pulled away without a word, and started walking to the bathroom. Iwaizumi sighed, relieved, and stared at the bay with his back to the room. He could not hear the quiet steps of his master, but he did hear very clearly how the silk that covered him slided down his snowy skin, until it reached the floor. When he heard the door close, Iwaizumi allowed himself to shiver, leaning on the window frame.

He had forgotten to tell him about the letter he still kept in the folds of his clothes. He wanted to hate Oikawa for influencing him like that, for exercising such control over him. He wanted to, he really did. But he couldn’t.


End file.
